


A Post-Quidditch Conversation

by PerpetuallyConcupiscent



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2406467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerpetuallyConcupiscent/pseuds/PerpetuallyConcupiscent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I was at a thespian conference. And we were at a playwriting workshop. And we were told to write down a location (“Quidditch pitch”) and choose a folded-up quote from the instructor's bag (“But I never heard from you after that time we kissed.”) and write a monologue. Only I didn’t hear the whole list of instructions. And wrote a scene. So this is what became of it.</p>
    </blockquote>





	A Post-Quidditch Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> So I was at a thespian conference. And we were at a playwriting workshop. And we were told to write down a location (“Quidditch pitch”) and choose a folded-up quote from the instructor's bag (“But I never heard from you after that time we kissed.”) and write a monologue. Only I didn’t hear the whole list of instructions. And wrote a scene. So this is what became of it.

[They walk onto the empty Quidditch pitch after the game, the Hufflepuff with his broom on his shoulder, the Slytherin with his broom dragging on the ground.]

HUFFLEPUFF: Good game.  
SLYTHERIN: Good game.

[Awkward beat…or two…]

H: So—  
S: So—  
H: Oh.  
S: No, you go.  
H: Sorry, I—  
S: You’re fine, just—  
H: Okay. [looks down]  
S: Well are you—  
H: [at the same time] It’s just I—  
S: Sorry.  
H: No. My fault. Like always.  
S: It’s not always—  
H: I just—it’s hard. You know? Seeing you here. Racing you to the Snitch. Pretending wrestling for it on the ground isn’t fraught with—  
S: Yeah.  
H: I just—I waited for you.  
S: I know.  
H: So long.  
S: I know.  
H: And it feels like I’m still waiting, and you’re never coming back.  
S: I am coming back—I will—I’m here now, aren’t I?  
H: I just—I thought something sparked between us at that stupid Christmas party—  
S: It did! You know it did—  
H: But I never heard from you…after that time—  
S: We kissed.  
H: …yeah.  
S: We kissed, and something…clunked into place inside me—I mean, we’re sorted into houses but there’s not—I dunno—a scarf of sexual preference or…I just felt—so—alone—for so long and—you…changed that. And it scares me. I…don’t know what I’m supposed to do…and that’s not me, that’s not my house, we’re not supposed to be unsure of anything—not really supposed to—  
H: Swing that way?  
S: …yeah.  
H: …  
S: …  
H: I…  
S: [looks at H]  
H: I’m sorry. …I didn’t know. I…I’ve been unsure…pretty much all my life—this is new and…un-new to me at the same time.  
S: [hesitant light laugh, almost a giggle] Un-new?  
H: Old, then. Same old, same old.  
S: _Un-new._  
H: [playful shove] All right, O Slytherin Wordsmith, thank you for your opinion.  
S: [shoves him back] What, are you planning on arguing with actual fact?

[They shove each other, laughing, until H shoves and tackles S; they laugh and roll around on the freshly green Quidditch field, wrestling playfully, then freeze, realizing what they’re doing, how close they are. They pause, look into each other’s eyes and carefully, slowly, tentatively…their lips meet.]

BLACKOUT


End file.
